


Good

by Mrs King of Hell (Slytherkins)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, fluff?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2019-10-09
Packaged: 2020-11-28 15:43:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20969009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slytherkins/pseuds/Mrs%20King%20of%20Hell
Summary: Sam’s having a hard day. Reader makes it better.





	Good

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PrincessMisery86](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincessMisery86/gifts).

“That bad?”

Sam glanced up at Y/N over the top of the tumbler full of rotgut tipped to his lips. “Been better,” he admitted in a grunt after lowering it, sounding far too like his brother. He didn’t see Y/N’s concerned frown as she approached. He looked, instead, down at the now near empty glass in his hand and then over to the decanter as if he contemplated refilling it.

Y/N cast the whiskey a dirty look as she settled onto the edge of the table beside Sam, lifting his face to hers with gentle fingertips when he failed to meet her eye of his own volition. 

“What’s wrong, babe?” she asked, tucking a wayward strand of hair behind his ear. “Did something happen?”

Sam shook his head, unable to hold her gaze for long. “It doesn’t have to sometimes, you know?” he murmured, finishing the alcohol in his glass and pushing the empty tumbler out of easy reach. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. “I just have days.” 

Y/N nodded and stroked his back. “I understand. What do you need? Want me to leave you alone?”

Sam shook his head but didn’t answer further. 

“Want me to listen? Or do you want me to distract you?”

“Distract me,” he said, almost too quickly, lifting a gently imploring look. “Please?” 

Y/N smiled softly. “I think I can manage that.” 

Y/N took Sam’s face in both hands and dipped to brush her lips against his, and Sam’s hands rose to cover hers. He was like a ship adrift, anchoring himself to her; his rock, his safe shore in stormy seas. His eyes drifted to a close with a relieved sigh, and it was as if he were breathing out his pain, as if she drew it from his lungs into hers where she neutralized it. It tasted like whiskey, but she’d clean that sting from his mouth soon enough. 

“This is not the place for the distraction I have in mind,” she whispered into Sam’s ear before she drew him to his feet. Sam’s gaze locked onto Y/N’s sweet smile as he rose. He seemed infinitesimally quickened by the sparkle in her eye, and he followed her to their bedroom as if tethered to her by more than the slender fingers tangled loosely in his own. 

Sam was usually the one to lead here, the one to grasp Y/N by the hips and toss her almost effortlessly onto the bed to wring requests from her gasping lips. But this wasn’t the time for that. Sam allowed himself to be steered toward the bed, allowed Y/N to lay him down across it with the gentle press of her hand on his shoulder, allowed her to slowly undress them both between peppered kisses while he lay watching with a grateful, captivated stare. 

With nothing now between them, Y/N slipped on top of him and melted against Sam, limbs sinking against and between limbs, until they pooled together comfortably. There was no urgency. Not yet. They enjoyed each other’s nearness, stroked languidly at whatever they could reach, until eventually their touches became more firm, fingertips more insistent as they searched out sensitive peaks and hollows. Y/N’s thumb grazed Sam’s taut nipple before she reached to wrap her lips around it, drawing a gasp from him. She continued a trail of caressing kisses down the length of his torso, then across his stomach, rippled where muscles tensed under her attentions. 

Her tongue investigated the shape of his hip bone. It was sharper, perhaps, than it should be. She’d have to fatten him up later; hard as it was to interest him in the heavy meals her grandmother taught her to cook, designed to thicken a man. Now, though, she nipped at the jutting contour, as beautiful as it was worrisome, and pressed her lips to the hollow beside it. 

Before she could move on from it, could skate her lips up the erection that strained full against her cheek, Sam urged her back to his lips. Y/N knew he wanted her mouth locked to his, their tongues tangled, completing the circuit they made when she eased herself higher and drew up her knees to sink down over him. 

Y/N rocked her hips, and they moaned into each other, but it wasn’t long before he drew her down close to him and turned them to take over the motion himself. On better days, he’d have drawn her wrists above her head and pinned them there, grasped her breast in the cage of his fingers to attach his mouth to it while he crashed into her over and over as she writhed and begged beneath him. This time, though, he drew her hands up only to press their palms flush and lace their fingers together, his hips driving them relentlessly toward a gentle climax while his lips found the crook of her neck where he whispered his gratitude in near unintelligible murmurs puffed against her skin with each smooth trust. 

Y/N wrapped her legs tight around Sam’s hips as he came inside of her, wrapped her arms around his chest while he shuddered with more than just his orgasm, and dotted the side of his face and neck with kisses. 

“I’ve got you, Sammy,” she breathed into his ear even as she felt warm tears wet her shoulder. “I’m not letting go. I’m here.” 

Sam didn’t answer except to shift and smother her mouth with his. The kiss was long, and deep, and tender beyond words, and by the time it ended, his tears had stopped. He rose to look down at her, his eyes clearer and less haunted than they had been, and she reached up comb her fingers through his hair that dangled like a curtain, momentarily shielding the two of them from the rest of the world. 

“Better?” she smiled. Her stomach gave a flutter when he returned it. His smile was genuine and beautiful, like the sun emerging from behind clouds. It warmed her. 

“Much,” he whispered, sinking closer to nuzzle her neck as if settling in with no intention of moving for a while, which was fine by Y/N. He still rested inside of her, and it felt like perfection, like that was their natural state and the two of them were only really complete when in union. Y/N felt she could lay with Sam like that forever. She cradled him, stroking his hair to urge him to sleep. 

“Good."


End file.
